As I enter the main foyer and spot him standing at the bottom step of the grand staircase, my excitement peaks even further.
Suddenly, I’m transported back nearly 48 hours—back to his bedroom where I drove into him over and over again, hearing his little cries as he gripped me so tightly.
I can practically taste his sweet skin; I can almost feel the tremble of his body as he came with such a great force that I thought for sure he’d pass out.
Atlas finally looks up from where he was watching his slipper-covered feet with great interest, meeting my gaze. His blue eyes widen as he takes me in, and I know my expression must be giving me away; it must be showing himexactlywhat I’m reliving.
He lifts a hand, rubbing at his chest over his sheer black top. He descends the last step.
“Julian,” he greets, his voice breathless.
“Young Master Atlas,” I say in return, giving him a lazy grin.
A soft blush appears on his cheeks, and he ducks his head, fiddling with his fingers.
“I’ve never seen you look at a man, oranyone, that way before… As if you’re terrified of him. As if he could crush you at any second, and you’re helpless to it.”
I… I think Landon might have seen something I’ve been too dumb to notice. As I stare at Atlas now, as I watch him flush so sweetly, I consider the very real possibility that I reallylikehim. It would certainly explain why the thought of someone else touching him makes me sick.
But not only am I still too uncertain to say, but I couldn’t put that on him right now. Not in the middle of all this pain and trauma.
Maybe… maybe after I save him and I sort myself out, we can have a nice, long chat.
“This way, please,” Atlas mutters, turning on his heel and heading toward Hall W4.
I watch him walk, the way his black slacks hug him so nicely as if they’re a second skin. His little brown curls bounce slightly with each step he takes, and the memory of nuzzling into them from behind as I took him is so overwhelming that I have to adjust myself in my pajama pants.
Entering the chapel, my brows shoot up in awareness.
“Atlas… I say this, risking the new air of comfort we’ve created, but you do know you have no reason to pray for forgiveness right now, right?” I rush out, and he stops, looking at me over his shoulder from where he stands between the rows of pews.
“What?” he questions.
“What we did, you don’t need to pray about it. There was nothing wrong with it.You’vedone nothing wrong, and—”
The small grin shaping his full lips cuts off my sentence, and I cock my head at him, confused.
“I’m not here to pray, Julie,” he assures me.
Julie. I think this is the first time outside of sex he’s called me that, and now I can only hear it in that voice. With that hint of desperation and need coating each lick of sound.
I am royally fucked.
“T-then what are we here for?” I clear my throat, watching him turn and continue further into the chapel.
“This,” he says simply.
Behind the table set in front of the right set of pews, the one that holds several candles, there is a red banner hanging over the wall. Atlas moves it to the side, and I can see what appears to be an outline as tall and wide as a door carved into the stone, but there are no handles or hinges in sight.
“What the…” My words trail off as Atlas presses the palm of his hand into one of the stone slabs, and a faint clicking sounds throughout the silent chapel.
He gives me another sweet smile over his shoulder as the invisible door swings inward, revealing a steep set of stairs.
“Follow me,” he says.
Atlas is disappearing into the dark before I can stop him, so I stumble through the threshold a few steps behind, allowing the stone to shut.
It’s pitch black, and so dusty inside that as I drag my hand over the hall and slowly descend the steps, I choke on my own gasps.
